Der Sohn Spricht

In the years that have passed since
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope hasn’t yet betrayed
I thought there’d be anger
But that’s never been my forte
I respect the choice to be far away, but
Love her much to stop the search halfway

If you do choose to return, maybe, we’ll have a smoke man to man
Exchange tales that only grown men would understand
Dread the moment when you shall not be missed
Can’t see it in the horizon even if the sun were kissed
In the years that have passed since
I've thought of you every single day
The pain has numbed
But hope just hasn’t betrayed

The Crazy Diamonds ...

Him: Okay, first things first. He is now the Greatest. Now, even greater than that stupid, tongue-drooping-out like a greyhound, drooling-in-spittle like a baby, Pistol Pee (for his name I shall not utter), that you so adored. With 15 slams and a French Open, the only thing that could have helped the Pistol remain the greatest was to have shot "The Greatest" with that rusted Pistol of his before this year's Roland Garros, or even better at Roland Garros. Alas, all Pistol could manage was to come dapperly dressed to Center court and wear dark shades to camouflage his weepy blood-shot eyes.
Her: Can you imagine my dilemma? I badly wanted Fed-ex to win, but if he does, Pistol's record would be broken and then I felt even worse when A-Rod broke down into tears. Do you even realise how difficult it was rooting for Fed-ex, feeling bad for Pistol and then feeling guilty about rooting for Fed-Ex when A-Rod cried. Gosh how could you not empathise and understand the pain.

She was never able to watch a Pistol-Pee match without having her face buried in her palms. Even when the Pistol was 40-0 up and serving for the match at 6-0, 6-0, 5-0. When he was younger he didn’t even try watching the greatest Germans ever to grace a Tennis court, Fraulein-Forehand and Boom-Boom-Bee, play. He loved them too much to want to watch them lose. In 1989, when he saw them on the cover of The Sportstar, posing at the Winners’ ball in SW19 he predicted marriage. He was even willing to play cupid. Nobody ever asked him to. The Fraulein went on to marry another of his favourites, The-Rebel-turned-comeback-kid-turned-elder-statesman. Incidentally, it was the 1999 Winners’ ball at Roland Garros that kicked off their romance, and of course, the Boom-Boom went on to screw a waitress in a broom cupboard at Cafe Nobu, Soho, London.

He didn’t like Pistol-Pee. He found him too drab. Uninteresting. She was the indulging elder sister. She cheered for all the ones he wanted to win. In the end she was the only one cheering as he wasn’t watching. And his "not watching bouts" extended to the Fed-Ex who would eventually become the greatest. The Spaniards’ turn will come too.

This is not about those hallowed gladiators who fight within the confines of the 78 feet X 27 feet battlefield. This is about us. Who could be the crazier of the two?

P.S: Will somebody put an end to his “him-her”/ “he-she” nonsense? He’s been on it for the last 3 posts now

but how ...?

00:54 A.M, Bangalore, 2nd July 2009
Exactly a score and nine years ago to the date, she was born to a militant Tam-bram family in a Chennai hospital. But, of course, it was Madras then. Her parents named her after a famous symmetric raaga in Carnatic music. For all practical purposes, she was called Ammu at home. After toying with various names he had settled on Ammu as well. He was too lazy to think of something that sounded cool, imaginative and Tam-bram. Now, thinking back he knew it wasn’t the laziness. Cool, imaginative and Tam-bram was actually impossible. She had settled down in London. Like most years when he wasn’t around, he called to wish her. Like most of the time when her phone wasn’t around, he hit her voice mail. He decided to send her a text message. Inspired by friends who had brainwashed him on the virtues of predictive texting he decided to try it. He had just started to get the hang of it after an intensive one-on-one session with the guru of predictive texting. In his eyes there was no bigger guru. No better guru. He typed “Ammu” frantically. It came on as something else in English. He wanted to spell the word to add it to the predictive texting list. He hit the send button.
20:24 P.M, London, 1st July 2009 (Daylight Savings Time)
She had just done her groceries at a nearby Tesco’s. She was at home sorting the stuff when she heard a beep on her phone. He was an old friend. As old as the hills. She opened the text message. It was a very short message. In fact, it had just one single word. “Boot”.

Us and Them ...

24th June 2009 16:02 P.M
Me: hey girl! are you on Facebook?
Her: uhum … yes why?
Me: wanted to add you. I talk to you pretty much every day so it doesn't really matter ... but...
Her: added you
Me: how you doing?
Her: well … my brains being fried since the weekend
Me: but why?
Her: Have you ever had Brain Fry before? Like fried goat’s brain?
Me: I think I did ... found it rather rich and complex
Her: It’s like... mushy cheesy globules. I'm trying to get things organised and set up for incorporating soon
...
24th June 16:19 P.M
Me: hey R
Him: hey! Where are you now? Are you in Bangalore?
Me: Hyderabad
Him: okay. I got your card
Me: have you ever had brain fry?
Him: bheja fry?
Me: yes?
Him: what is this?
Me: Bheja fry? Have u ever eaten bheja fry?
Him: ille pa (No dude). Why? What happened? May be I have had it when I was really small, but I can hardly recollect. Not sure. What is this about?
Me: How do you think it tastes? Or how do you think it should taste?
Him: Maybe like molten meat. Slimy. But should taste pretty much the same.
Me: Same as what?
Him: Meat ... Mutton …
...
June 24th 2009 16:28 P.M
Me: Saala. kahaan hai tu aaj kal ? (dude … where’ve you been of late ?)
Him: Same ol' place bhaai
Me: London ya Delhi?
Him: Delhi. How is it going with u boss? Making loads of money I assume?
Me: not loads ... but profitable...
Him: Where these days?
Me: Hyderabad. Was in your Office in Bangalore the day before
Him: Political consulting or more services?
Me: I had come to Bangalore on some work. Political consulting and Govt. consulting only
Me: Ever had bheja fry ?
Him: Why don't you sell some services of the old company as well? Yes I have ... a few times
Me: How does it taste?
Him: Pretty awesome!!!
Me: Can be sold, but aap log ka cost bahut hai (you guys cost too much). Abbe saale, bolo ki kaise taste karta hai, describe it.
Him: value derived is worth the cost
Me: Hello! Not in this field. Here, value derived is not value till it is derived at 1/10th the cost
Him: Quite like Keema but with a very specific aroma and flavour
…
June 24th 16:45 PM
Me: Boy. I was in Bangalore but couldn't meet you. Maybe the next time, which is, on Friday
Him: Bad dosth. Alright come home. You know my place anyways. How are things otherwise?
Me: Going good... You ever had brain fry?
Him: illa (No) … Where did you have that?
Me: Why not?
Him: Never got a chance
Me: 'coz u a sissy who wants to have Chicken Biryani wherever you go...
Him: Where did you stay when you came to Bangalore?
Me: How do you think brain fry tastes? Or how do you think it should taste?
Him: Why are you behind the brain fry...depends on whose brain it is…
Me: I mean the ones in restaurants. How do you think it will taste?
Him: Hopefully good
Me: Arrey dosth!
Him: never tasted dude
Me: Thoda imagination lagaaa ... (use your imagination...). How do you think it will taste?
Him: You are not leaving this topic is it? It will taste yuck (disgusting)
Me: Okie. Married life is good?
…
25th June 2009 00:19 A.M
Me: Hi ra...
Him: Hi don
Me: Have you ever eaten brain fry?
Him: ya
Me: Yeppudu? (When?)
Him: Nuthan's brain is tasty. Suri doesn’t have a brain at all
Me: Serious ga cheppu …(Tell me seriously)
Him: Nope. Nenu NV neee tinanu (I don't eat meat)
Me: I know you are a veggie ra. How do you think brain fry should taste?
Him: How do I know?
Me: that's why I am asking how you think it should taste
Him: Nee yenkamma (No translation exists)
Me: Cheppu ra (Come on tell me dude)
Him: hmmm… Something like Vankay Koora (Brinjal Curry) … Kammaga koddiga kaaram ga (Buttery …. A little spicy)

Afterword: This is for her. We've known each other for 12 years after meeting in a sleepy, dusty, university desert town. We've "known" each other ever since we met at one of my Best Friend's wedding

Don ...

He has always been a phenomenon. His following - legendary, and the aura around him - invincible. He's been a maverick, a rebel without a cause and the superstar we never had but have always craved for. He's as suave and merciless as the younger Corleone and as infallible as Mr Clark Kent's alter ego.

A few weeks back I had the chance to watch the Iowa Republican Primary results and saw Mike Huckabee's ad that was endorsed by Chuck Norris. Looking at Chuck Norris's facts doing the rounds on the Internet I realised a lot of them apply to our very own Don.

As he loses his single status a little later this year, this is my tribute to a friend, soul mate and my personal hero. Ladies and Gentleman ... from the United States of Apparala, weighing 70 kilograms and 165 cms ... The Don of all Dons ... The jack and master of all trades ... Nuthan Reddy Godhumalla ...

1. If you have five hundred rupees and Don Nuthan has five hundred rupees then Don Nuthan has more money than you.
2. There is no 'ctrl' button on Don Nuthan's computer. Don Nuthan is always in control.
3. There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Don Nuthan has allowed to live.
4. Don Nuthan counted to infinity - twice.
5. Don Nuthan can divide by zero.
6. It takes Don Nuthan 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes of Television.
7. Don Nuthan once rode a bull, and nine months later it had a calf.

[Blogger's Note: The picture was taken when he came home to Vetlapalem ... Needless to say everybody at home absolutely adored him. ]

From the X-Files (Part 2) .. Those Crazy Years

[Blogger's Note: An e-mail exchange between Aroon and me that talks about those four crazy years. The e-mail itself was sent some time around Feb 17th 2005 (a good 3 years after those 4 crazy years) ... the intent in his own words .. "and yet I have done little all these years since those times to even set eyes upon your countenance, or to speak with you of your trials & sorrows, or to know of your joyous crushes". Aroon's e-mail was titled "Is this Love ?" and my response was titled "This is Love"]

Is this Love ?

Where do i begin?

The invention of the phrase (phrase isn't it?) "bitch bastard" that even today brings warmth to my heart, or

The stolen gift of IPv6: The next Internet Protocol from the refli that I'll hold dear till my last breath leaves me, or

The many blissful nights (and mostly days) of sleeping on your floor which you begrudgingly permit in spite of your inability to self-gratify, or

The pool of urine that was found between my sleeping place on your floor and your cot, that until today hasn't had its source resolved, or

Your tolerance (and hidden love) of Julie, the bitch that found solace on your bed, and your feigned fits of anger at her, or

The daring breach of the locked-tower of sundial in Jaipur, or

The comps, god forbid I forget them!, or

The drunken spells of violence, targeted at khus and Das, or

You just being the friend you can be, or .........

Where do I begin? Is this love?

This is love

If our hearts are the doors of a temple then what is the key that opens it ? Love !!! Love !! Love !! Love !!

~ Translated from a song in Pelli Sandadi ( a Telugu movie by Raghavendra Rao, B.A. The song: Hridayam ane kovila thallupu theriche thaalam ? ... Prema !! Prema!!Prema !!!)

I could just carry on from where u signed off ....

The ticketless train travel from Bikaner to Loharu 'coz we thought it was more important to keep our stomachs happy ... or

Our midnight visits to ANC where the only word that counted was "karara" while the cook tried to figure out whether you were Sai-baba or Jesus Christ (incarnate of course) or

Chaco trying to decode what comps meant while Saiku was trying to figure out why the Time Cigarettes we gave him were always more kick-ass than the ones he bought or

Our nocturnal (and afternoon) visits to Golden Dragon where Hemantji would oblige us with old food, adulterated CDs and a credit that if evaded could put off his plans to buy a car by a couple of years or

The names like "random duckling", "Naamka", "boo...babu" that have stuck to people even today while (luckily) "granny" never got too popular!!

If this isn't love then what is ?